


a matter of love

by shinigami39 (setosdarkness)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Childhood Sweethearts, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Hospitalization, Love Triangles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-12
Updated: 2009-11-12
Packaged: 2020-09-27 19:00:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20412724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setosdarkness/pseuds/shinigami39
Summary: Three people, two stories and one love that cannot be.Three people in love, two stories and one true love.[imported from livejournal][original post date: NOV.12.2009]





	a matter of love

•••

**A Matter of Love**  
"_I love you. More than I can ever say I do_."

•••  
  
I've always enjoyed reading love stories. It's a bit embarrassing to admit it, but I've also always enjoyed envisioning myself as the heroine in such stories.  
  
Who wouldn't want a fairytale story? A young lady works hard on her own—but on the moment she meets her shining knight, her world just _changes_. Brightens up. Her horizons, her views, her feelings _soar_. She is doing fine on her own, but her knight not only completes her, but he makes her feel more than herself. Like she can do anything, as long as they're together.  
  
Yes. I've always enjoyed such romantic stories.  
  
I'd like to think—no, for the past decade, I have always thought—that my story is like that. A fairytale. Me ending up with the man of my dreams. The two of us leading a happy family and living happily ever-after.  
  
I can't hear the clicking of my heels against the floor. All I can hear is the pounding of blood in my temples as I stumble upon the little chapel inside the hospital—the best hospital in the country.  
  
I can't think about how ragged I must look, devoid of make-up and my clothes rumpled. All I can think of is how I would like to plead to God, to any deity that would lend me his ear, how I would like to pray for someone, _anyone_, to save my beloved.  
  
Eisenmenger's syndrome, the doctors said. It took a long time before it was diagnosed, and now the only option left for him is a heart-lung transplant. There are other complications, things that would usually make sense to me, but in my frazzled mind, all I can think of is how all hope has forsaken us, since they can't find a proper match for him.  
  
My husband is going to die, soon. Leaving me and our son. I close my eyes in a valiant attempt to stop tears from falling. I continue walking, or rather, I continue to drag my feet across the highly-polished floor.  
  
With eyes closed, and mind busy praying, I didn't sense someone bumping into me, until I feel callused hands grab my arm to prevent me from falling on my butt. I close my eyes and hastily wipe at my tear-stained cheeks. It's a good thing I'm not wearing any mascara; I would've looked completely freakish if I cried with those on.  
  
I utter a stuttering apology. I look at the person I'm bumped to and I blink in bewilderment.  
  
We look... the same.  
  
•  
  
I feel ashamed of myself. I am a professor at a university, and here I am, being a klutz and inconveniencing some stranger. Never mind that the stranger looks eerily like me. I actually first thought that I bumped to a mirror, and when I told the stranger this, she chuckled a bit. She seems nice.  
  
"I actually look like you when I was young." The stranger offers me a cup of coffee from the nearby vending machine. I feel my cheeks grow warm when she hands the drink to me. I stutter another apology, because I'm already wiping my face with her handkerchief. I dislike bringing a hanky with me, and look at what happened to me.  
  
"When you were young?" I venture, a bit confused. I'm usually not this slow. It's just that… a lot of things are weighing on my mind at the moment.  
  
"I made myself look like this." The stranger ventures to the twin pigtails and the wide cloth-headband at the crown of her head. "Since I promised to meet someone here."  
  
"He requested you look like that?" I can't help but asking. There's something about the person in front of me. She looks friendly, but not overly so. I feel like I can talk to her about anything. I'm hoping that the smile she sends my way means she also feels that I'm nice to talk to.  
  
She lets out a wistful sigh. One of her hands flutter self-consciously to her head, patting at her hair. "I haven't seen that person in a long time," A nostalgic tone seeps into her voice and I find myself mesmerized by the shine in her eyes. Tears. I cry enough to know how eyes look when someone is trying hard not to cry. "So I'm like this. So he can recognize me."  
  
"If you don't mind me asking," I duck my head a little, and I look down on my fingers trembling on the coffee cup. "…w-who are you meeting?"  
  
I receive another smile, though this one practically radiates nostalgia. Her teary eyes gain a faraway look.  
  
"I'm meeting my long-lost love."  
  
"Your long-lost love?" I echo and I almost hit myself. I'm not really this nosy either. There's just something about her expression, her words, that makes me want to know everything about her.  
  
She laughs a little and stretches out her hands in front of her. She raises her legs as well, waving them slightly. I smile a little at her antics. Her face looks rather mature, but her stretch just now makes me feel as though she's ten years younger than me.  
  
"Do you want to take a walk with me?" She asks, tilting her head to the side to look at me. There's something familiar about that gesture, but it escapes me.  
  
She sees my hesitation and she shrugs before breaking out to a grin. She jumps away from our bench in front of the chapel.  
  
One outstretched hand is in front of my face.  
  
"I'm Rhine Angeli. Nice to meet you!"  
  
•  
  
"Rhine, as in the river?" I inquire, awestruck. I know a lot of students' names, but this name is just so… _unique_. "Or as in rhinestone?"  
  
She shakes her head, pigtails swishing about. "Rh_y_ne—it's a 'y' instead of an 'i'."  
  
"Oh." I flush slightly. "I'm sorry!"  
  
"It's okay." She skips in front of me, a bounce on her steps. "Nobody really expects a 'y' there."  
  
We sit down on a stone bench, beneath the shade of trees. "My husband works in this hospital, but I don't really know this place." I admit a bit shyly. She doesn't comment on that; instead, she gives me another cup of coffee.  
  
I blink, wondering how lucky is it that my new friend—we're friends, right? We've talked about a lot of stuff already, so we're friends. Right?—also likes coffee?  
  
"Anyway, as I was saying," She continues her story from when we were walking, "I'm supposed to meet my highschool boyfriend here. That's why I was praying—I was praying for good luck." She pats her lips with her handkerchief. "I want to make up with him."  
  
"But it's been years!" I exclaim in indignation.  
  
"I don't want to get back together with him," Rhyne clarifies with a little laugh, "but rather. I want him to stop being mad with me."  
  
•  
  
"My husband has always wanted to work in this hospital." I say, shivering a little as the cold breeze blew by. We're now on our third round of coffee. "He really loves this place. He did everything to secure a good position here."  
  
"It's the top medical institution in the country," Rhyne agrees appraisingly, "and it has an observatory too."  
  
"It's really strange," I say with wonder, "my husband is also really interested in stars. Been in the astronomy club all throughout high school and university. He loves the stars as much as being a doctor, I think." Of course, I was also in the astronomy club. It's one of the things that I did just so I can be with him.  
  
There's a brief moment of silence. I look at the woman drinking coffee with me and I see her looking back at me.  
  
"My first boyfriend—" Rhyne starts after the lull in their conversation, "he's… _perfect_."  
  
"Is there really a perfect boyfriend?" I try to smile as I say those words. I hope the bitterness isn't as obvious. I used to love fairytale stories. Prince Charming, Knight in Shining Armor, One True Love. I used to.  
  
Rhyne cocks her head to the side again. "This sounds like gloating, but…" She takes a deep breath. The action pulls my eyes towards her chest. Okay, we may look similar, but I got nothing on her chest size. I berate myself instantly for such thoughts.  
  
"I feel like he did everything right. He walked me home, he walked with me everyday. He joined the same clubs I did, but he didn't pressure me to joining his clubs. He makes time for me. He gives me handmade presents."  
  
I feel my heart twinge at her words. A perfect boyfriend. The teary look returns full-force on her eyes as she continues listing off the things that time was unable to make her forget about.  
  
"There was one time," She closes her eyes—probably to control her tears, probably to remember things more easily, "when he made a glass mural for me. It was a special project for him, since he's great with the arts. But he hid a little note for me in that mural. Everyone teased us about it, but I've never felt so loved. So cherished."  
  
Her breath hitches when she utters the next words. I am paralyzed on my side of the bench, unable to do anything but watch her recall the memories that I have hoped to have.  
  
"He drew portraits of me. He wrote a song and sung it to me. He made a scene on a basketball tournament where he dedicated a half-court shot to me. He made a stone sculpture of an angel and he gave it to me, saying that I'm an angel. He wrote a novel that he dedicated to me. He never did anything I didn't want. He even asked me if I'm fine with holding hands."  
  
Rhyne, the happy-go-lucky Rhyne, smiles and the sight breaks my heart into countless pieces.  
  
"For crying out loud, holding hands," She seems both amused and confused at that action, "does anyone ask about that anyway?"  
  
I feel jealous, so very jealous. But at the same time, I'm very happy for her.  
  
"Then, why…?" I twirl a strand of hair from my own set of pigtails. "Why did you break up? You seem like a perfect couple."  
  
"He _is_ perfect," Rhyne agrees breathily, "he might not be _the_ richest, cutest, smartest or the best in anything—but he's really good at everything. And he's the only one that made me feel like a princess."  
  
Rhyne shakes her head again. "I… don't know why he got so angry with me. It was so sudden. Though." She takes another sip from her coffee. "I think I know why."  
  
"If you don't mind me asking…?" I ask meekly, because I'm still a bit unsure about the limits of my nosiness. Talking with Rhyne feels so right, like we had been friends forever, like it was completely logical for us to talk about our deepest thoughts to each other.  
  
"Our parents were both against it. So very against it. After all, we were only in our second year of high school. They forbid us from ever contacting each other. He defended me to his parents. Everyone saw it. His mother made a scene at school, yelling at him to break up with me, but he stood up for me. Her mother refused to give him allowance if he continued his so-called 'craziness'. He worked part-time so he can buy a phone line for the two of us. I couldn't say anything to my parents. I told them I broke up with him, even though I haven't. I couldn't defend him, but he said it was okay."  
  
I offer something which I hoped is a comforting hug. Rhyne leans against me. She smells like coffee and something strong. Like a chemical. I hug her harder when I feel her shake slightly.  
  
"And then… just like that. He broke up with me. Without saying anything."  
  
"Then the promise to meet up…?"  
  
She pulls away from me, wiping daintily at her eyes. She smiles weakly at me.  
  
"He promised a lot of things. He promised to marry me, you know." She laughs at my surprised gasp. A marriage proposal in high school?! "He promised me we'd be together forever and ever, no matter how many rumors tried to destroy us. And then. He promised me…"  
  
Rhyne shifts to look at the observatory dome interconnected to the hospital's huge buildings. "He promised me that we'll fulfill our dreams and end up here."  
  
"But you didn't specify any time, right?"  
  
"No, we didn't." Rhyne doesn't look that sad anymore. I hope I was able to lessen her sadness by listening to her. "Though honoring this promise is the last thing I can do for him. The only thing I can ever do for him. It's not like I have any place to go."  
  
"You're staying here forever?!" I am a romantic, but even that sounds a little preposterous.  
  
"I will die soon."  
  
The incredulous expression on my face drops like a bag of bricks. Die soon? B-but…!  
  
"W-what," I feel faint. I only met her! She seems like a really fun person! I was even planning on introducing her to my son and husband later! "Is that a joke…?"  
  
As I said those words, I know it was true. Amidst her cheerfulness, there is a serious look in her face. Maybe that's why she looks so mature to me? Is that because she knew all along that she was going to die?  
  
"What's the… _cause_?"  
  
"Some, um. Chemicals are causing my body cells to, um," Rhyne looks a bit uncomfortable as she tries to simplify things.  
  
I give her an even smile. "It's okay. I majored in Biology even though I loathe the subject." So I can follow my husband is unstated in the air between them.  
  
Rhyne looks a little startled. Maybe I said it too harshly? Too bitterly?  
  
"It's the Rigel Disease." Rhyne says quietly. I shiver again and this time, it's not from the cold breeze.  
  
It was on the papers and the press last month. Some hotshot scientist discovered it—a disease where the cells undergo accelerated necrosis, releasing a strange set of chemicals to the body, furthering the cell death. The chemicals and the dying cells look like bright blue spots when under the microscope, hence the _Rigel_ name. Rigel—the blue supergiant that's one of the brightest stars in the sky. My smile becomes crooked, as I remember that it's one of the things I learned while I was chasing after my husband. Astronomy is a big part of his life, after all.  
  
I'm also remembering some other things.  
  
"There were a lot of controversy with that, right?" I ask her, because I honestly cannot remember the details. My husband fussed about that conference—he couldn't go because of his weakened body. That scientist—_Rigel_.  
  
Rhyne shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "All I know is that I'm one of the unfortunate few to get that incurable disease. Soon enough, even my heart will leave me. So I'm fine with waiting here."  
  
I feel ashamed for even asking about that. But Rhyne seems fine with it and she doesn't look like someone who would lie.  
  
Unlike my husband.  
  
My lips were moving before I even knew what I was saying.  
  
"Can I tell you something?"  
  
•  
  
"My husband is dying too." I wonder since when did I get the strength to say those words out loud. I usually breakdown before I can finish the sentence aloud. "I was going to pray for him—because the doctors said that a heart-lung transplant is impossible for him, without the proper donor."  
  
Rhyne looks ahead at the observatory. I suddenly feel cold, so very cold. The cheerfulness that radiated from Rhyne seems to have vanished completely.  
  
I can't seem to stop the words flowing from me. I can't stop the resentment seeping into my words. "The one who discovered the Rigel Disease—my husband is in love with her."  
  
Rhyne speaks up, her tone quiet. "Why do you say that?"  
  
"I overheard it," I feel something getting bubbling in my throat, but I carry on, "He was drinking with his high school buddies and they talked about his high school girlfriend. He called her by a nickname, something he only gave me when I pushed the issue. They were talking about how successful she was, about how she was so far away from him now."  
  
"I thought he'd fall in love with me in the end," I say finally, and I barely notice the tears cascading from my eyes until I see her wiping my tears away with her handkerchief.  
  
Rhyne still looks composed, even though I was sobbing openly in front of her. She doesn't offer a comforting hug like I did before.  
  
"He calls her Rigel—because that's apparently her favorite star. He called me _Betelgeuse_. The biggest star in Orion—but Rigel is brighter than me. He's such a cruel person and I still love him."  
  
"He told you that?" Anger. I sense anger in that tone. I smile slightly, because it feels nice to have someone be mad for your sake.  
  
"No. But I joined the astronomy club for him. I learned those things for him." Rhyne still looks a bit angry. I didn't mean to make her empathize with me. I just want to tell someone. Everyone thinks we're a perfect couple, my husband and I. I can't tell anyone about my insecurities.  
  
"His nickname is Castor. It's because he's Gemini." I explain, since I'm not sure how good her knowledge on stars is. "Though I don't know why he picked Castor and not Pollux."  
  
"Castor is the mortal twin, while Pollux is the immortal twin." Rhyne states quietly, standing up from the stone bench and putting the coffee cups to a plastic bag for throwing. "Castor shines less than Pollux."  
  
"Oh." Maybe that means my husband is trying to make us the same? The bigger but less bright stars? And why is Rhyne going off already? Did I say something I shouldn't have?  
  
"W-why—"  
  
Before I finish saying my question, something collides on my legs. "Mama!" My son calls out happily, and I pick him up with a smile. Ah, so Rhyne saw my son running towards us.  
  
I spend a few moments talking to my six-year-old son and handing him back the babysitter. I guess it's time to say goodbye with Rhyne? Though I can still visit her, right?  
  
"I can visit you, right?" I ask, watching how Rhyne is staring at my son with a fond expression.  
  
"Yes," Rhyne agrees after a few seconds, moving in to encase me in a tight embrace. "Your son looks like his father. He's very handsome."  
  
I flush with pride. My son is taking after my husband quite well and I'm sure that my son will also be a hit amongst his peers and amongst girls when he grows up.  
  
"Can I ask one last question?" I feel like I shouldn't let her go yet. The Rigel Disease progresses fast, but not _that_ fast. But I can't seem to shake off this weird feeling.  
  
"Sure," Rhyne says, regaining her cheerful disposition.  
  
"Can you tell me why did such a perfect love story end badly?"  
  
I want to hide my face as soon as the words left my mouth. Stupid, stupid! Didn't Rhyne say that she doesn't know?! Was I that desperate to part ways?!  
  
Instead of giving a surprised reaction, Rhyne shrugs. "I sent him a text message, at the time when our parents forbid all contact between us. I explained that I didn't really love him at first. I just agreed to be his girlfriend because we were friends and I thought that it'd be a nice experience. I was in love back then with another person. But in the text message, I told him that by then, I'm in love with _him_, and not the other guy. Apparently, when I sent the text, it got off, and it didn't send the complete message. It would have been the first time I'd tell him I loved him. He thought I dumped him."  
  
The explanation sent my mind whirling. Wait, what? So Rhyne actually knew the reason all along? So it means that—  
  
"I broke his heart. I guess all I wanted to do is tell him I love him, that I appreciate all the things he did for me, that I'm thankful he did those things even though I couldn't do anything for him."  
  
"S-so—"  
  
"So please don't stop believing in love, Mrs. Gelsworth." Rhyne runs toward the hospital, leaving me looking after her retreating figure, mystified.  
  
Rhyne turns around when she reached a safe distance away. "Everything will be all right, I promise!"  
  
The last thing I see is her smiling face, promising me everything will be all right.  
  
•  
  
I return to my husband's hospital room, hand-in-hand with my son. There was a buzz in the hospital, like something important is happening. A couple of nurses are talking to each other in suspicious whispers.  
  
I ignore it and enter the room. I wasn't expecting anyone inside the room aside from my sleeping husband in life-support system, but I see this hospital's head doctor, with a clipboard in hand.  
  
His face breaks into an enthusiastic smile when I enter the room. My son runs towards the bed, shouting my husband's name. He's awake. They took him off the chemical-induced coma. He's awake! The doctors told me that they'd wake him up when he's about to undergo an operation.  
  
An operation! My husband's awake!  
  
He hands me the clipboard. A consent form. They found a matching donor for the transplant! I try to control my tears and my shaking hands. I still need to sign the consent form.  
  
The list of surgeons and supervising doctors for the transplant is rather… _stellar_, to say the least. The world's best doctors are congregating in this hospital to perform and observe the operation? My husband is famous, but I don't think he's _that_ famous to warrant such attention.  
  
My husband asks about the donor and the time of his operation. His voice sounds cracked, but it still sounds so sweet. No wonder he was a member of the choir. Even if its long-unused, he still sounds really good.  
  
"The donor asked for the operation to happen at the earliest possible time." The head doctor explains with a strange smile on his face. "She's actually on the table right now, so we should prepare you soon."  
  
"How did you get a match for me? It should be extremely rare—" My husband coughs and I immediately hurry to rub his back to comfort him. He doesn't seem to notice me. The head doctor looks uneasy.  
  
"She doesn't wish to be named, but." The doctor took something out of his coat's pockets. He handed one to me and one to my husband. "She asked me to give this to you."  
  
My hands tremble. I see the letters but they don't make sense to me. Or rather, I don't want them to make sense, even as my brain manages to put everything together.  
  
I now remember the controversy surrounding the Rigel Disease's discovery. The discoverer is suffering from that disease. The discoverer is a famous scientist and her career just disappeared because of that disease.  
  
_Please keep on believing in love_.  
  
That's what the note said.  
  
I haven't believed in true love since my husband married me. My husband who never cared for me as deeply as he cared for his one true love. My husband who closed off his emotions—who's now here in this hospital, to keep his promise—who's now crying as he reads the note his donor passed to him.  
  
More than ten years have passed and he finally received his answer.  
  
The doctor doesn't stop me from reading the message to my husband. I bite my lip and I run towards the operating rooms, where _she_'s fulfilling her promise, where _she_'s proving her love.  
  
_I love you. More than I can ever say I do_.  
  
•**  
END**


End file.
